Peppermint and cinnamon
by bridgestars
Summary: Ressler can deal with the decorations and the lights, but he's not going to a Christmas party. No way in hell. Not even if his life depends on it. (Sequel of '83 Days')


**_Author's notes: _**English is not my first language, so I'm sorry for all the mistakes you'll probably find.

**Peppermint and cinnamon**

**#1**

Ressler is welcome with a flash of red and green the moment he puts a foot in the post office. He's so taken aback that he has to blink a few times before he can understand what he's seeing. There's a huge, fully decorated Christmas tree in the middle of the office, some garlands and what seems to be some kind of angel-bells in the walls, and a wreath on the door of Liz's office. And for Pete's sake, is_ 'White Christmas'_ playing on the speakers? He slowly closes and opens his eyes again, because this must be a bad dream. When he left the night before everything was grey and plain as always, and now the bullpen looks like the fucking house of Santa. Right when he thinks things can't get any worse, he watches how Aram puts an animated life-size Santa beside the tree.

This isn't a bad dream, this is a fucking_ nightmare._

He feels like he's on the_ 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers'_ because nothing makes sense anymore and the only explanation is that everybody has been swap for this race of _Christmas-lovers aliens_. Some of his co-workers are dressed as Santa's elfs, Aram is wearing an awful Christmas sweater and a Santa hat, and even Meera is wearing what seems to be a reindeer headband.

"What the hell is going on?" Ressler asks cautiously (he doesn't wanna upset the new masters of the earth if they're really aliens) as soon as he gets to Meera's desk.

"It's Christmas," she answers without looking at him.

"I'm well aware it's Christmas, but that doesn't explain all of this."

"Doesn't it?" Meera says with a raised eyebrow.

Aram passes by his side carrying a reindeer figurine and Ressler is sure he's about to lose it.

"Who the hell allowed this?"

"Cooper," Meera says as she starts walking towards Liz's office with Ressler following her.

"Cooper?" Ressler asks flabbergasted.

Okay, he doesn't want to panic, but his theory of the_ 'Christmas-lovers aliens'_ suddenly is making a lot of sense.

"It's for the Christmas party."

"What Christmas party?"

"The one we are throwing up tonight."

Ressler stops dead in his tracks.

"Are you listening to yourself?" he asks after a few seconds, when he finally composes himself. "We can't throw a Christmas party, this is a black site for God's sake!"

Forget the_ 'Christmas-lovers aliens'_, this is his worst nightmare. He can deal with the decorations and the lights, but he's not going to a Christmas party. No way in hell. Not even if his life depends on it.

"Don't be a Grinch, Donald," says Red. He's sitting on a chair in Liz's office with one of those hideous Santa hats on his head.

"This was your idea, wasn't it?" he asks, looking at him with hate. This has to be Red's idea, there's no one around here able to pull out something like this with Cooper.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Red answers with smug smile. "But I must admit I'm excited with this. I missed the last 20 Christmas because of unfortunate circumstances."

"You were on the run because you're a criminal."

"Details, details."

"What is going on here?" Liz asks as she arrives at her office and sees the three of them inside. She's wearing a reindeer headband like Meera, and Ressler has to admit that she looks cute with it.

"Oh, Lizzie. I'm glad you're finally here," Red says as he gets up. "As we expected, Donald is being a Grinch about the Christmas party."

"I'm not being a Grinch!" Ressler complains looking directly at her. "I just think it isn't a good idea to throw a party here, at a black site. This place is supposed to be a secret."

"It's just for us, Ressler," Liz says as she walks to her desk with some files. "No one outside the team is going to come. And Cooper gave us authorization."

"I was gonna head out to get some things for the party," Meera says. "Do you want something in particular?"

"I don't believe your CIA salary allows you to buy some Beluga caviar, does it?" asks Red.

Liz shakes her head.

"Whatever you want is fine, Meera."

"Ressler?" the petite woman asks looking at him.

He puts his hands on his waist.

"I don't like this."

"Just get him a box of beer so he can sit alone in a corner and sulk like an old man while the rest of us had fun," Red says as he gets up and smooths his suit.

"What are you doing here anyway?" he asks with a frown. "Do we have a case or something?"

"Even criminals take vacation from time to time, Donald, you should try it sometime." Red turns to look at Liz with a fatherly smile. "I just came to wish you a merry Christmas, Lizzie. I'll see you in the party tonight. And don't forget to wear a dress."

"A dress?" Ressler asks as soon as he and Liz are alone.

He still doesn't like the idea of the party, but the thought of Liz in a dress is putting some things into perspective. The last and only time he saw her in a dress was in their second case together.

"It's a Christmas party, you're supposed to dress up," she says with a smile. "So you can go and dust off your best suit."

"I don't think I'm coming to the party."

"Don't be ridiculous, of course you are," Liz tells him while she finishes some files. "It's a team thing and you're part of the team."

"I hate Christmas parties." Ressler admits as he crosses his arms over his chest.

"You really are a Grinch, aren't you?" she looks at him with a fond smile. "Let me guess, your favorite Christmas movie is _'Die hard_'."

"It's set on Christmas!" he protests.

Liz shakes her head amused and gets closer to him, so close that Ressler starts feeling uncomfortable in a good way. She smells like Christmas, something spicy and nice. _Cinnamon_.

"Well, I guess you're gonna have to deal with it tonight, because there's no way I'm letting you get out of this."

She leaves the office without another word and before Ressler's brain comes out of his daydream (he was wondering if Liz's lips tastes like cinnamon too, even though he knows he shouldn't be thinking about that kind of things because they're partners). It seems he has no other choice but going to that stupid party, but he's not gonna like it. He already knows what's going to happen. Red will spend the whole night making fun of him (like always), half of the staff will get drunk and do something they regret and the other half will have to clean up after their mess and pretend they didn't see anything.

Well, at least he will see Liz in a dress.

And _fuck_, is he supposed to get a present for somebody?

"Embrace the Christmas spirit, Agent Ressler," Aram says happily as he gets closer to him with a Santa hat on his hand.

"If you touch me with that thing I'm gonna break your wrist."

* * *

**#2**

He's sitting alone in a corner drinking a bottle of beer. The party started almost two hours ago and he hasn't moved an inch from that spot the whole time. It's the quietest place in the office, the only one that doesn't have decorations or a speaker on the wall playing those annoying Christmas songs that are diving him crazy. He swears he's gonna blow up his own head with his gun if he has to hear Aram sing _'Santa baby'_ again.

Everybody else seems to be having a good time. Liz is chatting animatedly with Red, Aram and Meera are sharing a very awkward dance in a provisional dance floor they made by moving some desks, and even Cooper appears to be in good mood while sharing a glass of wine with Diane. The only other person who seems as bored as him is Dembe, but he always looks bored so Ressler doesn't know if he's actually having fun or not.

He closes his eyes (those green and red lights are really annoying), leans back against the wall, and wonders how long he has to be there before is socially acceptable to make up an excuse and leave. He could be doing something useful instead of watching how his co-workers get drunk. Maybe he's missing a rerun of_ 'Batman Returns'_ or something (because_ 'Batman Returns'_ is totally a Christmas movie, he doesn't care what anyone else thinks).

"You didn't dress up."

Ressler doesn't know when it happened because he was lost in his thoughts, but suddenly Liz is right beside him with two bottles of beer. She's wearing a dark red knee-length dress, her hair loose around her shoulders and still has that reindeer headband, but even with that Christmas accessory she looks classy and breathtaking. He has spent the last hour or so trying very hard not to look at her and failing miserably half of the time. Red caught his glance one of those times he was shamelessly ogling at Liz, and he doesn't want to deal with his knowing smirk right now (or never).

He thanks her the beer with a nod and looks at his own clothes. He has a very expensive green shirt at home (he believes is one of those Christmas presents Audrey gave him when they were dating), but he didn't want to give Red more reasons to call him Grinch, so he finally decided for a blue plaid shirt and dark jeans. It's not very fancy, but he usually wears suits for work so he thought it would be a nice change.

"But don't worry, you look handsome anyway," Liz continues with a smile while she takes a sip of her own beer.

"You don't look so bad yourself."

Words like_ 'gorgeous'_,_ 'beautiful'_ and _'stunning'_ are tying to blurt out of his mouth, but he bites his tongue to stop them. Things are finally starting to be normal again between them after the whole Tom debacle, he doesn't want to say something that can make her feel awkward in his presence. He had a taste of what his life would be without her, and doesn't want to be in that situation ever again.

They drift into a comfortable silence for a few minutes until she speaks again.

"You truly are not a party person."

Ressler chuckles and gives a long sip to his beer.

"I told you so."

She shakes her head with amusement and leaves her beer in a near desk.

"Come on," Liz says, grabbing his forearm and dragging him to the party. "Time to mingle."

He's about to protest when he feels how her fingers go down slowly on his arm until they are firmly around his wrist. He stares dazedly at her hand, feeling a tickling sensation where her skin touches his. Two more inches down and they would be holding hands.

Liz pulls him along, Ressler being too stunned to complain, until they reach the provisional dance floor where Meera and Aram have just stopped their awkward dance (he still doesn't understand how can someone dance with Christmas carols) and are now drinking some eggnog. The petite woman turns around and a playfully smile appears on her face as soon as she sees him.

"Look who finally decided to join the party."

"Don't tease him," Liz scolds her with a smile. "You're gonna scare him away."

"I'm sure you will manage to bring him back if he tries to run away."

A light hint of pink appears on Liz's cheeks after that statement, but Ressler is too busy focusing on how she hasn't let go his wrist to notice that. Or on how they are standing so close than their shoulders almost brush against each other. Or on how now that he's so aware of her presence he notices that she still smells like cinnamon.

"Eggnog?" Aram asks Liz, turning to one of the desks to pick another glass for Meera and himself. He's still wearing that awful Christmas sweater and Ressler wonders if he didn't get the _'dress up'_ talk.

"I think I drank enough for tonight."

"Ressler?"

"I don't like eggnog."

"Of course you don't," says Meera.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asks with a frown.

Okay, so he isn't very enthusiastic about Christmas, but that doesn't have anything to do with why he doesn't like eggnog. It's made just with milk with eggs, is _weird_.

"Is there anything you like about Christmas?"

"He likes _'Die Hard'_," Liz says with a little smile.

"Are you for real?" Ressler is pretty sure Aram had too much to drink already, because he sounds more excited than ever and he's usually overexcited about everything. "Then you would have totally loved Agent Keen when they attacked the box! She was like our own version of John McClane, you know? No shoes, with just a walkie-talkie and some guns against the enemy."

He turns to look at Liz curious just to find out she's avoiding his glance, the hint of pink still on her cheeks. He was out half of the time so he read the report while he was on the hospital to know what really happened, but no one said anything about Liz being the feminine version of McClane, he would have remembered _that_.

"So you are a _'Die hard'_ fan," Meera continues, cutting his line of thoughts. He has started to imagine what Liz must have looked like and that's a road he shouldn't take, not when she's so close to him. "But you don't like anything else."

"Pretty much."

"Not even the mistletoe?"

He raises an eyebrow, wondering where she wants to go with all of this. Of course he hates mistletoe, that thing only gives problems.

"No."

"Ressler," Meera says with a mischievous smile. "Look up."

_Fuck._

The universe hates him.

He should have stayed on his corner all night, because he raises his head and lo and behold, there it is. A fresh branch of mistletoe just above his and Liz's heads. Ressler has the sudden urge to grab the plant and trample it until there is nothing left. That thing it supposed to be on the lintel, not in the middle of the fucking room where anyone can be caught under.

"Who the hell put that thing here?"

"It was Mr. Red's idea," Aram says.

"Of course it was."

He doesn't understand how Red manages to make his life miserable even when he doesn't mean to. Because there's no way he put that mistletoe there just to annoy him, he couldn't know he would be under unless he's a psychic (which he's not, but that would explain a lot of things). He glares at the older man across the room. Red isn't looking at him but from the smile on his face Ressler knows that he's perfectly aware of what's going on.

Liz's hand is still holding his wrist, her thumb drawing soft patterns on his skin and sending shivers up to his arm, and this time she's not avoiding his glance when Ressler looks at her. There's something in her eye he doesn't understands, but suddenly they seem cloudier than usual. He wonders what she's seeing on his face.

"We don't have to do it," he tells her, the _'if you don't want to'_ part hanging on his tongue. Because this is exactly what he was trying to avoid, awkward situations between them, but he's not gonna lie and say he doesn't want to kiss Liz. At least once, even if it's under the mistletoe.

"You have to do it, it's tradition," Aram complains.

"It's a_ stupid_ tradition."

"But traditions are meant to be kept."

"And some are meant to be broken."

Liz rolls her eyes and, before Ressler can understand what is happening, she puts a hand behind his neck and brings him closer to her face.

"You complain too much," she says in a whisper, giving him a kiss on the corner of his mouth, very very close to his lips.

Well, it's almost on his lips.

Half of her lips are on Ressler's lips.

He stares at her dumbfounded, her face still too close to his for him to think properly. His heart didn't just skip a beat, because he's a grown up man and grown up men don't react like schoolgirls for kisses that aren't even kisses. Although this totally counts as a kiss. At least a 50 per cent.

Ressler opens his mouth to say something (he doesn't know what yet. He just knows he has to say something and_ soon_, before he starts to look like an idiot), his brain finally catching up with what happened, when there is a little commotion in Liz's office.

"It seems someone is in your office, Agent Keen."

He doesn't know who he wants to kill more right now, whoever is in Liz's office or Aram for pointing it out and making impossible for them to ignore the whole thing. Liz gives him a little squeeze on his wrist (she hasn't let it go the whole time) and a shy smile before leaving to see what's happening on her office. Ressler has a pretty good idea of what's going on (people get drunk and the first thing they wanna do is find a place to make out), but he's not gonna think about_ that_ just after an almost kiss with Liz. No, not thinking about _that_.

"Saved by the bell," Meera says as soon as Liz leaves.

"I could use that glass of eggnog now," Ressler tells Aram in a quieter voice.

"Right away!"

"But don't you dare to get closer," he warns him. He's still under the mistletoe, not able to move an inch, and the last thing he needs right now is to get caught under it with Aram. He can't think of a worst way to ruin an after-kiss with Liz. Well, with Red it would be worse for sure, but he doesn't even want to go there.

He drinks the glass of eggnog in one gulp and seriously, that thing is disgusting.

"Let it out," he tells Meera when he sees the look on her face.

"You need to talk to her,_ now_."

Ressler raises an eyebrow, he doesn't need to be told that. He knows he needs to talk with Liz about what just happened, even if the almost kiss (definitely a kiss, _definitely_) means nothing to her. It's better to clear things up now than to wait and have an embarrassing conversation in a few hours (or days). At least now he can blame the alcohol for whatever stupid thing that comes out his mouth, because there is a high probability that he ends up saying something stupid (although he's far from being drunk, maybe just a little tipsy).

He looks at Meera, who is glaring at him with her arms crossed over her chest. He has the feeling that if he doesn't start walking towards Liz's office soon she's going to drag him by herself, and it isn't gonna be a pleasant experience. She's tiny, but he has seen her knock down guys twice her high like it was nothing.

Ressler takes a deep breath, gives Aram his empty glass of eggnog, and starts walking towards Liz's office.

"Don't screw this up."

For someone who claims to be on his side (or at least she acts like that sometimes) Meera shows very little faith on him. Although to be honest she has every right to think like that, his conversations with Liz doesn't usually turn out like he wanted.

_'All I want for Christmas is you'_ starts playing on the speakers, and fuck, is that some kind of sign or something?

Ressler shakes his head. Obviously he's more tipsy than the believed, because that was a stupid thought, there isn't such things as signs. He should be thinking about what he's gonna say to Liz when he gets to her office. He doesn't want to seem like he's reading too much into it, so he can't go and say _'You kissed me. Sort of. Half of your lips were on my lips for more than three seconds and that make it a kiss_', because the truth is that there is a 50% chance that it was just a mistake. Maybe he should act that it didn't happen. Maybe her intention was to kiss him on the cheek but she miscalculated. Maybe he should just act like he didn't notice that their lips brushed together, that he didn't feel how her hand caressed the back of his neck before they broke apart, or how she didn't seem to want to let go his wrist like she longed for the touch of his skin.

The blinds of her office are down and he can't see what's going on, but for the sounds he's hearing (as if someone is cleaning a mess) he guesses his suspicions were right and her office got trash in a rush of passion between two of their co-workers. And there is a road of thoughts he shouldn't be taking right now.

Liz is picking her phone and some files from the floor. She took off the reindeer headband at some point and is chewing the end of a candy cane and _fuck_, she shouldn't be allowed to look so good doing that.

He clears his throat and knocks a few times on the door to catch her attention.

"Hey."

She lifts her head and stands up, sending him a little smile.

"Hey."

"Do you need a hand?" he asks her, pointing at the floor where there are still some files to pick up.

"Yes, thank you."

Ressler gets closer to her and starts gathering up the rest of the papers. They don't talk for a few seconds, both too focus in fixing Liz's office like it was before the little invasion. He can't help but notice that even if it isn't an awkward silence, there is some tension between them.

"Look, I don't want things to be awkward again between us," he blurts out once everything is sorted out, his hands on his waist.

Liz raises an eyebrow surprised, like she wasn't expecting that.

"Okay."

He took two steps back to put some distance between them right after he finished helping her, and now they're facing each other while Liz is sitting on the edge of her desk.

"I know it meant nothing, so we can forget about the whole mistletoe thing if you want."

Liz looks at him without saying a word for what seems like an eternity, her blue eyes locked with his. He shifts uncomfortably on his feet under her glaze, hands still on his waist. Obviously he said the wrong thing, because she has that look on her face, the one she puts whenever he does or says something she thinks is stupid.

"I helped with the decorations."

"What?" Ressler frowns, not understanding what that has to do with anything.

"I knew the mistletoe was there."

Oh.

_Oh._

His lips are on hers within seconds.

He doesn't even realize what he's doing until his hands cup her face and he's kissing her. There are a few seconds of panic after that, because maybe he's reading the whole thing wrong. She said she knew the mistletoe was there, which doesn't have to mean that she wanted to kiss him (although that brush of her lips against his said otherwise). Maybe he's making a mistake and this time he's screwing things up for real.

Then Liz grabs a hold on his shirt pulling him closer to her, and _fuck…_

Ressler's hands find their way to her waist, lifting her body a little so she can sit more comfortably on her desk, his knee between her legs. Her lips move against his, noses bumping a little while they try to find the perfect position. He can feel her smiling into his lips as one of her hand crawls up to his neck, fingertips brushing the back of his skull and sending shivers down his spine.

Her mouth is hot and soft against his, blood rushing through his veins and pounding on his ears. She tastes like peppermint and beer, his teeth caressing her lower lip until she opens her mouth, tongues dancing together. There is a fire in his lungs, but he's not pulling away yet, not now.

_Why haven't they done this sooner?_

He can feel her moan before he actually hears the sound, her body vibrating against his. His hand is on her lower back, pushing them closer if that is even possible. He can feel the heat coming out her body through the fabric of her dress, goosebumps showing up wherever he caresses her skin.

There's a knock on the door but Ressler doesn't care. Whoever is will have to come back in a few minutes. Or never.

"Lizzie, are you decent?"

_Fuck him._

He pulls his head back and her lips follows his for a moment. Liz makes a sound of protest on the back of her throat when his mouth leave hers, eyes still close. He's a little bit dazed, his mind so muddled he doubts he can even form a phrase. She's breathing heavily, lips swollen and hair out of control. Blue eyes now looking directly at his own.

Liz kisses his jawline, her nose brushing softly against his cheek, and he forgets about everything.

There is another knock on her door and Ressler groans. _He's gonna kill Red._

He knows they're not gonna be able to keep what they are doing with Red at the door, so he kisses her tenderly, lingering a second more than he wanted (he's afraid he's not gonna be able to stop), and takes two steps back so she can get up of the desk.

Liz send him an apologetic smile and passes her thumb over his lips.

"Lipstick," she says as an answer.

Ressler nodes, not trusting his voice right now.

She turns to look at the open door, where Red is looking at them with a knowing smile. That man only exists in this world to torment him.

"Sweetheart, Diane is looking for you," he says, the smile not leaving his face at any moment.

Liz rolls her eyes, takes a deep breath and look at Ressler. There's something different in the way she's looking at him now, more fondly, and suddenly he has the urge to kiss her again (Diane and Red can go and fuck off for all he cares).

"We need to talk._ Later_."

"I'm starting to see a pattern here," Ressler tells her with a smile, because that is basically what she told him a few months ago at the hospital, when he left her what Meera calls_ 'the drunk voicemail'_ (although he swears he wasn't drunk).

She squeezes his hand, fingers interlace with his own.

"So," Red says a few seconds later, as soon as Liz leaves the office. "I guess I'm getting a son-in-law for Christmas?"

"Shut up."


End file.
